Hidden in the Leaves and Stars
by kittykatloren
Summary: Her movement reminded him of swaying grasses – the way her arms and legs bent into the turns, and how her body turned when she swung her blade around in a full circle, beautiful but deadly. FE7 Rekka no Ken; Lyn/Hector oneshot.
1. I

**A/N: **So this was originally a single oneshot, but it was quite long, so I decided to split it into three parts. But still, think of it as a single whole. My first Lyn/Hector piece; I've always loved them. So I hope you enjoy, and please leave a review!

If you already read this when it was a single oneshot, I have edited a little bit in this update but not signifigantly. This is NOT a new story, or an updated one, it's just been rearraged!

**Disclaimer:** Everything you recognize belongs to Nintendo, etc., not to me.

* * *

It was a bright, hot midday, and the camp bustled with its usual tense, nervous fervor. Even in the sweltering oven that was noon, everyone was still working on their training or preparations. No one could rest during a war. Hector found a rock the perfect size for sitting and settled himself on it to sharpen his axe.

As the day wore on, he moved on to the task of shining his armor and repairing any dents. He even attempted to sew up tears in his clothing, but after a few hours' struggle, he glanced at his sorry handiwork and figured that the stitching would be better left to someone far more skilled in such an art. He'd have to steal a cake from Merlinus, offer it to Serra or Priscilla, and hope that one of them would take pity on him.

But still, amidst all the work, Hector was immeasurably glad to be in the middle of things.

Nils came by and sat down on the grass at the base of Hector's seat – the boy's head barely reached the top of the rock – and practiced his flute for all to hear. Hector ruffled the boy's sea-green hair affectionately before he danced away to perform for another part of the camp. After that, Serra came by, closely followed by an exhausted-looking Erk. She over-graciously accepted Hector's torn clothing without him even needing to mention a cake.

"It would be my pleasure, Lord Hector!" she cried happily. Behind her, Erk rubbed his forehead. "I am a _prodigy_ at sewing. If you ever have anything you need, come to me as your personal seamstress. Why, I even stitched the very cloak that Erk here is wearing now, after he had gone and lost the one he used to wear! If I say so myself, this new piece is much finer than his old rag."

"Serra – come, give the lord a rest," Erk said tiredly. Hector shot him a sympathetic glance.

"Many thanks, Serra," Hector said as the cleric pranced away with Erk at her heels. As the afternoon wore on, a cool wind picked up, blowing the whole camp into an odd tornado of loose leaves. Picking up his axe, armor, and supplies, Hector brushed some grass out of his hair and fell into step beside Eliwood. Just as they were about to enter their respective tents, Hector saw a flash out of the corner of his eye. He whipped around, but there was no one in sight. Frowning, Hector walked back out towards the edge of camp, waving absently to Eliwood.

"I'll just be a moment," Hector called. He didn't hear his friend's response, if there was one. Dodging between the sparring Sain and Kent, ducking under the low-flying hooves of one of the Ilia sisters' pegasi, and pushing his way through the tangle of brush surrounding their camp, Hector was finally free of the bustle and noise. But – as he had expected – he was not alone on the isle's open beach.

Lyn was standing on the beach, training on her own, her blade spinning with her as she practiced a graceful sort of fighting. It had to be Sacaen. Her movement reminded him of swaying grasses – the way her arms and legs bent into the turns, and how her body turned when she swung her blade around in a full circle, beautiful but deadly. Her hair even whirled around her like a field of grass all on its own. When she was done, there was a long, sandy trail of footsteps behind her.

A wave soon crashed onto the sore and smoothed her tracks completely away. Lyn jumped to avoid the water.

Grinning, Hector began to clap, ready to announce his presence so that she wouldn't be taken too much by surprise. Still, she did a double-take when she saw him, and crossed her arms stubbornly. "When I want to train _by myself_," she said, emphasizing the last two words with a glare and a pointed finger, "that generally means I do _not_ want to be accompanied, Hector."

"My apologies," Hector said, holding up his hands. He walked over to her and stood close beside her, but she didn't budge an inch, still glaring tenaciously up at him."But, Lyn, if you would like to know, it was gorgeous. Your work, I mean. And you, too, for that matter."

"Flattery will not make me forgive you."

"What about the truth, then? It _was_ quite beautiful. So are you."

"It won't work," she said coolly. But all the same, her posture loosened, and Hector could see a grudging smile on her face. "Why are you here, Hector?"

"It's exposed out here. Neither of us should be here, really. I was going to ask you to come back into the main camp."

Lyn's gaze dropped and turned towards the wide, tumultuous ocean. "I like it out here."

There was a long pause filled by the steady crashing and falling of waves on the sandy shore. With a sideways glance at her – her face glowing orange in the setting sun – Hector was struck, as always, by her unique beauty. Eliwood had been right, when he'd spoken about her so long ago – her heritage made her striking. Without meaning to – without really deciding to do it, Hector slipped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in to his side.

She didn't move an inch. Slowly – his heart matching the waves' quick but steady rhythm – Hector leaned down and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

Lyn twisted out of his grasp like a fox. Her long hair spun around with her, whipping Hector across the face. Lyn's eyes were bright and narrowed, and she was standing tensely, her hand on her sword hilt. "You know we don't have time for this, Hector," she said quietly. The salty breeze caught her words and carried them very clearly to Hector's ears.

"What do you mean, I know?" Hector replied. "I know we don't have much time, in general. But perhaps there is time for something more than just fighting and preparing and then fighting again. You despise such constant battling."

"Of course I do. But that does not mean that I forget its importance," she hissed. With that, she turned away from him, walking as if she were flying back towards camp.

"Lyn, wait!"

Hector ran and caught her by the elbow, pulling her back to face him. But she ripped her arm away at once. "Don't you _dare_," she hissed. Her face was inches away from his as they both froze in their tracks. She was standing on her toes, her finger extended dangerously. Her eyes flashed emerald. "Don't you even _try_."

For the second time, her hair slapped across Hector's face as she turned and stalked off. Hector remained on the edge of the beach, the sun sinking into the deep ocean. The water looked almost like blood in its glow. In front of him, his shadow stretched further and further towards the campsite before darkening as night began to fall. Hector started and realized that he had to return. Places such as this were open and vulnerable. He needed to return to the campsite, where there was nothing more than war preparation all around, as always.

And as much as he enjoyed being a part of the group, Hector felt an old loneliness as he entered his tent. His mended clothes were lying on his bed, with a note and a chocolate sweet from Serra. Placing them on his bedside table, Hector inspected his freshly sewn clothes – they were indeed very well done, with only a few stitches out of place. He'd have to thank Serra later.

But for now, all he wanted to do was sleep.


	2. II

**A/N:** Again, just in case you missed the A/N in the first chapter: this is NOT a new part of the fic if you read it a while back, this is just the same thing rearranged. Enjoy!

* * *

Stars glittered coldly overhead, barely visible through the thick, towering treetops. Lyn ran her hand over the hilt of her sword. The night was oppressive and silent around her, a single cloud blocking out the eerie light of the moon. Cool grass tickled her bare feet. The ocean was too far away to hear or feel. Usually, Lyn could sense the pulse of the waves and tides, just like the waves that soared through Sacaen grasslands. But here in the depths of the Dread Isle, there was nothing.

It was too much at times, the depth of this war. Too many people were affected. And there was still so much more to do. If only there were peace, just like the peace Lyn could find in the middle of the night, alone, in a dark forest. It may be dangerous, but it was still serene, still beautiful. Danger was always present, but it didn't ruin the tranquility.

_This is how the world should be,_ Lyn thought. _A risk, but calm. Not always safe, but comforting._ But she knew, deep in her heart, that such peace would not come about easily. It would take more war, more fighting, and more death before anything would change. Some people, like Nergal, and cruel bandits, _did_ deserve to die. But that was a limited number. The number of innocents lost in the madness was far too high. It was the cost of a war.

_If that is what it takes to win, then it will be done,_ Lyn thought, staring at the sky. _I will fight for this peace._

Behind her, something rustled, a small noise that was discernable only because of the skills she had acquired on the plains. Lyn whipped around, drew her sword with barely a sound. The bright metal of the Mani Katti sparkled like a diamond, reflecting every tiny speck of light from the cloudy night. A dark shape emerged from the trees, someone large, a man. Lyn tightened her grip on her blade.

"Lyndis?" The voice was low, warm, and familiar. "Is that you?"

"Hector." Lyn sighed, loosening her grip. "Yes, it's me. You've become much more adept at moving quietly in the wilderness. I barely heard you coming."

"I learned from the best," he said nonchalantly, walking up beside her. Lyn realized that he wasn't wearing his armor, just breeches, a thin tunic, and a powerful axe across his shoulders. Now that he was closer, she could see his features much more clearly; he looked just as tired as she felt. His eyes glowed as he looked at her. "What are you doing out here so late?"

"I could ask the same of you."

"I was on watch duty when you left. My shift ended, and I hadn't seen you return, so I thought I'd look for you."

"Were you making sure I was safe?" asked Lyn, watching him out of the corner of her eye. He grinned at her, shaking his head and shrugging.

"Of course not. I know you can take care of yourself," said Hector. But he still placed his arm around her, rubbing her shoulder good-naturedly. His body was warm in the cool evening air. "You don't mind my company?" he asked, titling his head down towards her. Lyn was not short, but next to Hector, she always felt so tiny.

"Not at all," Lyn murmured. She would never tell him, but in truth, she was grateful for his presence.

Closing her eyes, she let his touch distract her from her thoughts. Hector was running his hand through her hair now. For a moment, Lyn wanted nothing more than to stay here, away from the group, just her and Hector in the quiet and peace of darkness. But then she remembered why she had come out here in the first place – to gain solace from the war. The war that demanded all of their attention.

"There isn't time for this," Lyn said firmly. She opened her eyes and slid out of Hector's arms, turning to face him. "We both know that, Hector. There isn't time. We must concentrate."

Hector's face was hard to see now that she had stepped away from him. "Perhaps," he said quietly. "And perhaps, it will do a warrior good to take a moment for nothing more than hope. We need to remember that there is more to life than fighting and killing and winning. I've told you all this before. Won't you listen for once?"

Breathing deeply, Lyn shut her eyes again, trying to focus on what was most important. Heat and uncertainty rocketed around her chest, pressuring her heart to beat so much faster; logic tried to take precedence in her mind over the rush of feeling and desire that flooded her limbs. She couldn't deny to herself that she had felt this before, she had wanted this, _needed_ it, even. Hector – the one she argued with, battled with, and talked with, the one she knew she could trust with anything. Was he right? Was it better for her to take a moment to forget, or was the only right way to focus solely on the fighting?

Suddenly strong arms wrapped around Lyn's body, pulling her in close. For a split, fleeting second, Lyn hesitated.

But soon, it all became too much. Lyn let herself relax into Hector's body, feeling his calm strength surround her and warm her like nothing else had before. His hands brushed over her back and through her hair. She buried her head in his shoulder; for once, she let him protect her; she let him chase away all her thoughts and fears. He kissed her forehead lightly. Looking up, Lyn saw that his eyes were dark and kind, all emotions carefully controlled. His hand went to her chin. Their faces were barely even inches apart.

"I could kiss you now, you know," he said, his voice light and good-humored. "I could _dare_ to do it."

Lyn smiled. "You could. But you would be forgetting that I have a sword in my possession."

His cheerful and confident expression dropped for a second, replaced by one of disbelief. "Seriously?"

Lyn slid a hand around to the nape of his neck, bringing his lips to hers before he could say any more. His surprise did not last long. They kissed until they were both out of breath, matching each other's pace and rhythm perfectly, just as they did when they battled and trained. Barely a single breeze of air could pass between them until they broke apart, loosening their arms around each other and taking deep, cool breaths to fill exhausted lungs. Lyn met his eyes, seeing a familiar sparkle and depth. There was too much for words to say now. He touched her face, kissed her again, rested his arms around her waist.

Leaning her head onto his chest, Lyn closed her eyes yet again, content to stay there in his arms for as long as possible. The night surrounded them, and them alone.

"Hector?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you," Lyn murmured.

"For what?"

"For being here. When I need someone to lean on. You've always been there, even when I don't want to need it."

He made her heart skip, as if stepping over a tiny river, when he did nothing more than hold her a little tighter. "You can always lean on me, Lyn," he murmured. "I will be there, forever and a day."

"You're a charmer," Lyn said, but she smiled in spite of herself. It was enough that he was here, that he was hers, that he was able to understand.

Their inner scars meant nothing. Lyn hoped against hope that somehow, they would never have to leave – but the war was still too present. There were too many questions still unanswered. But Lyn promised herself one thing.

If they both survived – if, somehow, their world was not destroyed – then she would try harder for things that she had previously thought so foolish. Perhaps they weren't so strange, after all.


	3. III

In the thick of battle, Hector's mind seemed to leave his body. He was always glad for that. It enabled him to fight without feeling the immediate guilt. Often times, it came later, especially when innocents had been put at risk – but Hector was a little more hardened than Eliwood when it came to emotions in battle.

Hector threw and slashed with his axe, feeling his own power behind each blow and achieving a sickening sort of satisfaction when the hammer hit. Enemies and allies danced around him in the wide, grassy field, but Hector focused on nothing but the fight. The sun beat hot and bright overhead, like a large, fiery, glaring dragon's eye.

Hector heard sudden sounds behind him: a falling body and the soft swish of a speeding sword. Quickly, he whipped around with his axe at the ready, about to crash it down on the head of whoever was attacking him – and found himself with a sword to his throat.

And clutching the long, shining blade was none other than Lyn, her eyes fierce. She recognized him at once, lowering her sword. Her bright green eyes widened the slightest bit. But she still kept them constantly flickering over their surroundings and opponents, and her grip was still very tight on her sword's hilt. The sight jolted Hector's mind, sending him flying out of his cold battle-mode and back into heart-pounding, dangerous reality.

"You're not fast enough quite yet, Hector," Lyn said, a little out of breath. Her chest heaved with every word she spoke. "You're lucky I looked before I struck."

"I am indeed. I'm lucky that you're faster than me." Hector rubbed his neck. "I should learn from you. Sometimes, I don't look before I strike."

"You could regret that one day," she said seriously. Suddenly she frowned and touched the collar of his shirt, one of the few places where he wore no armor. "Was this torn before?" she asked.

Hector glanced down. "I don't think so."

"I think I ripped it when I dropped my sword. I'm sorry. Bring it by my tent when the battle's over and I'll mend it for you, all right?"

Hector nodded, but before he could say anything, she jumped to the side and dashed forward, slashing her blade across the throat of a soldier who had a spear aimed at Hector's back. Lyn grimaced and wiped the man's blood from her cheek. Her eyes met Hector's for a second – but then, the battle seemed to roar back into complete, full, furious life, and they were pushed farther and farther apart in the fray. Hector lost sight of her in seconds. His mind disengaged and he went back into his battling mode, forgoing guilt and emotion for a later time.

* * *

"Lyn? I have my shirt for you to mend, if you have the time."

"Of course. Come in." Lyn held a needle in her teeth as she pushed open the tent flap for him; she was busy mending her own dress, but she had told him she'd fix the tear in his shirt. With a quick knot, she finished her dress and turned to Hector. "Let me get a new thread," she said. But as she did so, she flicked her eyes back towards him. He didn't have his shirt with him.

"You're sure you're not busy?" Hector asked, grinning and holding his exceptionally empty arms wide.

"No, I'm not, but – where's the shirt?"

Hector tugged on his collar, which – Lyn realized bemusedly – was the one that was torn. "Right here," he said cheerfully. "Would you like me to take it off?"

"Nice try," Lyn said dryly, glaring at him in a good-humored way. "Just stand still."

Pulling up a small, three-legged wooden stool, Lyn stepped up so that she was the same height as him and could work on the shirt without having to hold her arms too high. Carefully, to ensure that she wouldn't accidentally poke him with the needle, Lyn ran the thread in even, strong cross-stitches through the thin fabric of his shirt. It smelled both of sweat and blood – but over that, she could smell something nicer; a warm scent that was uniquely Hector.

Smiling a little, Lyn finished the sewing and tied it off. For once, her work was essentially perfect; Lyn couldn't help but feel a little proud. She'd never been fantastic at sewing back on the plains. She patted her work and met his eyes. "There. All done."

Hector grabbed her hands before she could move them away. Lyn raised her eyebrows at him.

"Yes. I dare," Hector said, smirking.

He was unbelievable sometimes. But at least it was all for her. Shaking her head a little, Lyn slid her hand behind his head and kissed him, feeling a smile against her lips and a pair of strong hands on her waist. Maybe – just maybe, in this tiny spare moment of peace – there was time for more than what either of them could ever expect.


End file.
